


Sometimes the Best Attack is Retreat

by braindelete



Category: Iron Man (Ultimateverse)
Genre: Gen, Tony Stark is not pleased, Ultimate Jarvis is hilarious, reference to attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braindelete/pseuds/braindelete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony attempts to call out Jarvis on stealing money, but it doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes the Best Attack is Retreat

Tony Stark glared at the pathetic, aging luggage set in the entry way of his penthouse as if it had challenged him to a duel.

The flight back from Nepal had been better than expected once he gained a stow away, a gorgeous Chinese-American woman on her way home from visiting her grandparents in Tibet--or maybe it was her cousins ... well the point was she was on her way back to New York City and was more than happy to ride along with Tony as his latest inductee to the Mile High Club.

They parted ways with her soft coos for him to call her when he had the chance, leaving her number in his hand and nibbling his ear on the way to the cab from his private jet's location on the landing strip. Tony smirked and opened his eyes, once she'd walked away, and crumbled the paper up, shoving it into his pocket.

"Like a condom, darling, I throw you out after one use." Tony mused as he slipped into his waiting town car.

The ride back to his townhouse was uneventful at that hour of the morning, the City that never slept seemed to be, in fact, doing just that. It was quiet in Times Square and downtown, the only business being conducted was the constant glow and flash of the advertisements around him. As they approached the Penthouse building he wanted nothing more than to lie down in his own bed and sleep for an hour or twelve.

Unfortunately, the luggage had stopped him on his smooth path to his bedroom.

"What is this..?" he knew he was speaking to no one.

Tony checked the tags, looking at the name, slightly bemused at his discovery. Edwin Jarvis. Sir Edwin Jarvis. Oh he was a sir now was he? Wasn't that quite the little lie he was telling in his travels. Tony decided to investigate this more, finding the passport discarded on the kitchen counter. He flipped through it more out of curiosity than malice until he saw the recent stamping and the plane ticket.

"Marrakesh..." Tony read in a whisper, before it dawned on him. "Well, well... I know exactly how you paid for this little excursion."

He set down the passport and went to bed. His morning or afternoon- depending on when he decided to get up- just got much more interesting.

 

He was certain that he hated the sun. It woke him abruptly like a punch in the face as the light poured in from the windows. Tony groaned and rolled over, taking a short hesitation to consider his condition. Checklist: no headache, no nausea, able to move without weakness... today was going to be a good day. With concession, he sat up and yawned, stretching before getting out of bed and slipping on his robe. There was amusement in store for him.

Tony made his way into the kitchen to see Jarvis preparing himself some breakfast. When Jarvis heard Tony enter, he visibly paled and moved away from making his food to prepare Tony his usual breakfast of a martini with three olives. Four olives, because it was Sunday.

"Good morning. I didn't expect you back so soon, sir." Jarvis commented, with just a hint of disappointment.

Tony raised a brow and sat down with the paper. "Well, of course you didn't. Sir. Or you'd have removed that heinous luggage from my foyer."

Jarvis hardly flinched as he held the shining cocktail shaker in his hand, giving it a rough tumble before pouring the clear liquid into the artfully chiseled glass blossom, long stemmed and waiting to catch the trickling beverage. Tony watched the glass, suddenly feeling very thirsty at the view as vodka drowned the olives. He slipped his hand along the base of the glass before pinching the stem between his fingers and taking a long drink. The gentle burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat made him release a contented sigh.

"Jarvis, a finely made martini is a work of art. Tell me something, Sir, how are the martinis in Morocco?"

The silence in the room was so deafening that Tony couldn't help but break it with a laugh. He knew he'd won, by Jarvis's silence. He knew that Jarvis was aware that Tony knew what had happened in his absence, that the petty cash that had been missing had funded the vacation while Tony was climbing Everest. Not that Tony minded, but he knew it was an opportunity to poke at Jarvis, make him feel uncomfortable. That was a game for Tony.

"If you wanted a hot foreign twinkie, you could have just asked. I could Dial-A-Bottom for you any day of the week, Sir. Or do you prefer to have a rugged muscle man on top?"

"Very cute, sir. So what do you plan to do about it?" Jarvis quipped. "If you've known all along that I took the cash, Master Anthony, why did you let me take the trip?"

"Oh, like I care about the money." Tony waved his hand and laughed. "I make that in five minutes."

Jarvis stared at Tony a moment. He didn't know what the man had planned but he did know that Stark would never fire him. At least, he knew if Stark did get so bold as to fire him, Jarvis knew all the right buttons to push, where all the skeletons had been stored.

"If you fire me, I'll spill all your secrets." Jarvis mentioned off-handedly, refilling Tony's empty glass.

Tony flinched. He hadn't recalled saying a word about firing. He looked at Jarvis wondering which secrets he meant exactly. A man like Tony Stark didn't have much he could hide. There was the unfortunate--no, they didn't speak of him.

"Which secrets, pray-tell would those be..?" Tony mused.

"Someone's going to have to be here to cover it up next time you try to take your own life."

This time, it was Tony who paused as he felt a thickness form in his throat as he swallowed. He narrowed his eyes, not liking the bitter and sour taste of defeat filling his mouth. He lifted his glass to his lips, eyes trained on Jarvis, taking a chug to wash away the flavor of defeat.

"I have meetings to attend to," Tony stood from his seat.

If Tony had a tail it would have been firmly tucked between his legs in his retreat. Jarvis knew that maybe he'd gone a little lower than he should have but then again, sometimes Stark needed to know his place. He cleaned up the remains of Tony's Martini Breakfast content that he was secure in his job... at least for now.

Fin


End file.
